Thursday, December 17, 2009

I have a hairdresser (brief pause for laugh track). Yes, my hairdresser is from Utah and says that as a result she can't help but rat up the hair. I call this phenomenon Utah Alien Hair and I am not sure why people like it... but they seem to. THEN (yes, the plot thickens) I heard about this little product. Seriously. Bumpits. I am shaking my head as we speak. Doesn't that last girl look like she stepped straight out of the University Mall?

Wednesday, December 9, 2009

A friend of mine recently embraced vegetarianism. I have nothing against vegetarianism. Nor do I have anything against veganism. Militant veganism; however, is another story for another time. I am not sure if whilst embracing vegetarianism he also thought he might embrace some other isms... but for whatever the reason, he decided to eat at the One World Cafe. Here is his properly scathing review."okay, I have returned. And I think that restaurant is the embodiment of liberalism. And it fails. The selection was extremely poor, the food bland. They guilt tripped me into paying more for the food than it was worth (so that they can afford to feed the poor), And I left hungry. I stopped off at this incredible gourmet bakery, just so I could feel full. The bakery, probably embodies conservatism. The selection was huge, the prices were low, I bought way more than I can eat, and am now so full of whip cream that I am sick."

Monday, December 7, 2009

What has me so incensed that I would use the colloquialism ain't, you ask? Well, Christmas is upon us, which I adore, by the way. But now the Christmas music is ALSO upon us, and trust me, not all Christmas music is created equal. Here I am mentally referencing that God forsaken 8 month period when my roommates played the 98 Degrees Christmas album throughout the entire 8 months rain or shine. Alas, moving on. One song that I often hear at Christmas time annoys (I had infuriates typed up here, but that is far too strong a word) is "My Favorite Things" via that classic musical The Sound Of Music.

Not only is this song NOT a Christmas song, I can't even determine how it came to BE a Christmas song. Initially, in the original stage production, this song is sung by Maria to Mother Superior when she is leaving to be a governess. Most people are more familiar with the movie version where she sings it to calm the children during a thunder storm. In no instance does this song take place at Christmas or even in Winter. Let us dissect the lyrics.

Raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens -no illusion to Christmas hereBright copper kettles and warm woolen mittens - mittens, not solely worn during ChristmasBrown paper packages tied up with strings - she says 'packages' not GIFTS, peopleThese are a few of my favorite thingsCream colored ponies and crisp apple strudels -nothin'Door bells and sleigh bells and schnitzel with noodles - sleighs are how they got aroundWild geese that fly with the moon on their wings -nothing Christmassy hereThese are a few of my favorite thingsGirls in white dresses with blue satin sashes - nopeSnowflakes that stay on my nose and eyelashes - this references winterSilver white winters that melt into Springs - ah, but we move away into SpringThese are a few of my favorite thingsWhen the dog bites - NoWhen the bee stings - Also noWhen I'm feeling sad - Who knows?I simply remember my favorite thingsAnd then I don't feel so bad.

So please, strike this one from your Christmas Carolling List. In a related story. A few weeks ago The Beardocrat and I were watching some previews. Along came a preview for a Christmas movie and the Beardocrat muttered, "Man, Christmas is in peril a LOT." I agree.

Monday, November 30, 2009

I am not sure if that is strictly true, but I have had a nonstop conversation today via the internet about googlewave. (how can I converse all day and still manage to be hard at work? well... it is complicated, you wouldn't understand) You will notice that I am utilizing two different spellings as I am not sure which is correct and I like to cover my bases. So everyone keeps telling me about their invites to googlewave. Ishrug. I sigh. I meh. I hate technology. Everyone knows this. I have certainly mentioned it enough. Remember this? Or this? How about this? Okay, that last one was just a jaunt down memory lane. But really, I am not interested in technology.

Yet, this googlewave thing took me back to when I received my invitation to gmail. That is right, back when you had to be invited. Sure my life didn't change immediately after being invited to gmail by this guy, but change it did. Without gchat how would I ever keep up on the love lives of various people who require my constant guiding hand? How would my friend Smithfieldman tell me he received his Google Wave invite this very day? Or how would I ask my own beloved Beardocrat if he had been invited to Google Wave and find out he had!?

Now this puts me in an interesting position... to despise technology and be better than technology is one thing... but to not be cool enough to be invited to technology is quite another. And I find I am torn. The Beardocrat, who has a passionate love of all things technological and gadgety, tried to placate me by telling me he doesn't think it will be all that cool. He then assured me that he just got his invite today... and that 'if I wanted' he'd send me one. Regular readers of CPR will realize at this point in our gchat I will be skeptically furrowing my eyebrows and pursing my lips. He'll send me an invite, will he?

And via the technology that is gchat I cut paste you the exciting conclusion to my googlewave envy google: "Invitations will not be sent immediately. We have a lot of stamps to lick. " So it may be a while. Yeah, thanks for nothing, google.

Friday, November 20, 2009

I live with someone who has two business cards. One says Art Director, and his latest says Creative Director (can we say a little pretentious??? You direct CREATION... What?). Yes, he hasn't switched jobs, and it is for the same company. I shake my head and don't ask questions. That was pretty much the philosophy with which I approached advanced math [(s) if you're British]. Long story continuing to be long... he is what people would consider 'good at art'. For this reason I believe he HATES billboards. And when I say HATES in all caps, I mean he REALLY HATES billboards. He mentions it often, and recently has been talking about city/county ordinances against billboards. Those of you who know me (Hi Latin Fury) often accuse me of disliking things strongly for no good reason, and maybe I do... but the Beardocrat's hatred of billboards still slightly mystifies me.

Innocently I pointed out the billboard for Sundance's Night Skiing in order to demonstrate that not all billboards were crimes against art and humanity. Said billboard features two adorable owls. Oh, look. there they are. Adorable, right? I mean, one hates to gush but I really like me some owls. The Beardocrat would not yield, he said that billboards are the commercials of Utah's highways. And no matter if a commercial is well done or no, it is still a commercial. Well, I hate commercials. So 1 point to directors of art and creation everywhere.

Monday, November 16, 2009

Thursday, November 5, 2009

That is right. I said it. I think everyone is over reacting about swine flu. Check out the graph. It shows deaths in the last (or semi recent) 300 day period and their causes. Swine Flu ranks right above leprosy. Yes, that is right Leprosy. It ranks under Malaria, TB AND Dengue Fever (yes, I had the Dengue. It wasn't pleasant, but I am alive to tell the tale) in the communicable diseases category. Now I know someone who contracted BOTH Leprosy and Swine Flu and lived. Sure, she didn't get them at the same time... but the moral of the story is the same. All these people freaking out and rushing to get vaccinated and crying because they can't get in for something that kills less people than diarrheoal in a 300 day period. Yes, LESS than the runs people. So please. Take a step back to rationality and realize that the Swine Flu is just another sickness.

In case you are wondering, No, I will not get the Swine Flu vaccine, and no, I will not use Purel every four seconds, and no, I will not die of the Swine Flu, even if I get it. I survived Dengue people, and that kills far more the the Swine Flu.

Thursday, October 15, 2009

I have never been a big trick or treater. Blame the Latin in me, but I find it highly strange to go door to door essentially BEGGING for candy... from strangers no less. I have never actually been trick or treating in my life. True. I have attended many a Halloween party, carnival, or other events that involve haunted houses and throwing pumpkin shaped bean bags at targets. I even highly approve of dressing up. Trick or treating; however, is another story.

On the 24th I will be attending my first Trunk or Treat. I guess the philosophy is that you park in a parking lot and everyone just rushes by really quickly and you give the kids candy... okay. This seems even MORE wrong than trick or treating. So help me, if you are going to be begging for tootsie rolls that I bought with my hard earned money, you are going to have to freeze going door to door all evening and WORK for it. I highly suspect that on the 24th I will give the trunk or treaters enough candy to sicken them and then on the 31rst they will ALSO appear at my door expecting MORE treats. This is getting ridiculous and I ask, where will it end? Next year will I be required to go door to door and give the children candy in the comfort of their own homes?

Thursday, September 24, 2009

There is this elevator at work that is my enemy. I call him Number 3. There are three elevators, none of them are numbered, but this one is all alone on one wall while the others are close together--they are Juanita and Sally. I have once been trapped in Number 3 for over 4 minutes. No one called the fire department and there was no way to alert anyone... eventually it just started moving as though nothing was wrong. Number 3 is highly unreliable. You get in and the doors remain open and never close. You can push the close door button but that doesn't seem to work. I have perfected the trick of hopping once you get inside. For some reason if you hop, then the doors will close. I think this is just a power struggle game that Number 3 is playing with me and by our history I judge number 3 is winning. He just sits there while I hop around and look like an idiot to all the other passengers. Recently the facilities maintenance people said that the elevators were going to be renovated. I was thrilled. For two whole days Number 3 was out of commission. I got to work the other morning and entered this newly renovated elevator. Verdict: All they did was change the carpet! Number 3 is as ridiculous as ever. Just one more reason to take the stairs.

Monday, August 31, 2009

This post is inspired by yesterday's church attendance. Oh, I know, I know... generally it isn't considered polite for people to gripe about church, but this has nothing to do with the doctrine or leadership. This has to do with the members. And hey, the church is perfect but the members are most definitely not.The Scene:We actually got the third row in an attempt to hear the speaker and maybe concentrate on the talks. Families with tiny children quickly surrounded us. During sacrament the children behind us kept complaining loudly that they wanted a treat... their mother kept saying that they would get their treat after the Sacrament. Sure enough the Deacons hadn't even been released to sit with their families when picnic time erupted and the noise of plastic wrappers, crunchy serials, and children arguing and physically abusing each other over cheerios rang throughout the building drowning out the speakers. This was not only the family sitting behind us, but on all fronts people were breaking out their food.This is SACRAMENT MEETING people! Not a baseball game. It is symbolic of the greatest act of man and God and you are doling out gummi bears??? This really makes me livid. People with children everywhere are saying (and I can hear you, so don't deny it) "but little (insert name with a y on the end in the diminutive) needs to eat. She/He is hungry." The fact of the matter is little (insert name) does NOT need to eat. Children (even tiny ones) can go two hours without eating. And preschool age children--most of the offenders in my scenario--can go 3-4 hours without food. Imagine that. What a novelty, but not really as I am sure these parents are not stuffing their kids full of treats every 20 minutes when they are on their home turf. It is called planning, people. The LONGEST Sacrament meeting I was ever in went for an hour and forty minutes. Still not long enough for a child to need to eat.Oh, now I find those of you who will try to convince me that these food bribes help the child behave. Oh, no. I have seen your children 'behaving' before and after the treats. The Latin Fury and Big Steve DID not bribe us with treats or food of any kind during church. It was simply not acceptable. In fact my father had the strict idea that we went to church to "worship, not to have fun" (yes, his own words). No one is going to convince me that a cheerio assists in a child's worship. In addition to not assisting it turns normally charming kids into shameless food panderers.I beg of you, stop the insanity. Bring your quiet books if you must (though Big Steve did not approve of those either), bring your pictures of the Temple, Jesus, and family members... but do not train your child to think that Sacrament meeting is nothing more than a time to play with Mom and Dad and get graham crackers by the dozen. I realize that many people have their patterns set, but this is a promise: My hypothetical children WILL go without food during Sacrament Meeting.

Wednesday, August 19, 2009

Tuesday, August 18, 2009

So, it has recently been brought to my attention that my personal laziness has reached an all time high (never mind that I am typing this at work...). This epiphany came as a direct result from the following conversation.

To which I replied, "Yep... because it is missing a button and I am not going to sew on another one."

Now, I am not terribly domestic. I don't do crafts and my home isn't decorated at all. In fact, I detest decorative wreaths (hmmm... a subject of another blog post???) I can; however, sew buttons and not much else. I have found that in order to successfully sew a button one must have both the ability and the motivation. I find I have lacked the motivation to sew this particular button for over six months... and some other buttons as well. Here is a list for your reading pleasure, of clothing that I have ceased to wear because it needs an odd button/clasp or two repaired.

1- Red shirt (the inspiration for this post) requires one tiny decorative button2- Green shirt two buttons on the back of the neck3- Blue shirt one button on the back of the neck4- Brown shoes need a little button sewn back on the right shoe5- Black dress slacks both clasps6- Tweed looking dress slacks one secondary button

Thursday, August 13, 2009

The reunion between the woman with green eyes and the photographer was quiet. On the subject of married women, cultural tradition is strict. She must not look—and certainly must not smile—at a man who is not her husband. She did not smile at McCurry. Her expression, he said, was flat. She cannot understand how her picture has touched so many. She does not know the power of those eyes.Such knife-thin odds. That she would be alive. That she could be found. That she could endure such loss. Surely, in the face of such bitterness the spirit could atrophy. How, she was asked, had she survived?The answer came wrapped in unshakable certitude."It was," said Sharbat Gula, "the will of God."

Tuesday, August 11, 2009

I read Devil in The White City recently and LOVED it! I highly recommend this book to anyone who has a fleeting interest in history and/or true crime. I learned about Chicago and its coming of age as a stockyard city to a tourist attraction. I also learned about the nut job serial killer H.H. Holmes one of the first documented sociopaths who defied previous definitions of a murderer because there was no implicit motive in many of his murders, even though he did receive financial gain, their method was most bizarre. But above all I learned a lesson about the way people thought then and the way people (read: me) think now.

Daniel Burnham and John Root had been partners and architects in Chicago years before they began organizing the building of what would become known as the World's Columbian Exposition. They had a close friendship. Before the construction of the fair actually got underway John Root contracted pneumonia and died. In the few weeks Root was sick Burnham was constantly at his bedside missing critical time to plan for the fair that already had an unrealistic deadline. I found myself thinking... 'Are you serious? Get back to planning. The guy is dying, you can't do anything there.'

This attitude made me think... what IS important? How do I spend my time? In the larger sense the Columbian Exposition, while pretty cool, wasn't that important in the grander scheme of things. The relationships that we build and maintain are what show us the type of people that we are and where our priorities lie. I would guess that few of today'sCEOs would ignore their work if a fellow CEO were ill and bedridden in order to stay at his (yeah, his, no political correctness here, just grammar correctness) bedside. When did this shift occur? When did transient materials become more important than people, to me personally and to society in general? Daniel Burnham, in his way, knew that architecture was steel and stone and fleeting. The site of the World's Columbian Exposition no longer remains. The 'white city' that was conceived in the minds of the greatest architects of that day burnt to the ground. But you can bet that relationship between Burnham and Root DID weather time, distance, and even death because in the end THAT is what was important.

Thursday, July 30, 2009

Today I ran out of protein bars... for those of you privileged enough to have eaten breakfast or lunch with me any time in the last four years know that generally I eat a protein bar. Specifically the Cliff Builders Bars with 20 g of protein. Yum. My favorite is, of course, the Peanut Butter, but every now and again I like the Chocolate Mint, or the Cookies-n-Cream. Despite what you may hear from Protein Bar Haters, these bars are both filling AND delicious. But enough about one of the loves of my life. Let us proceed to today's topic. The Cinnamon Roll Pop Tart. My verdict...

This Pop Tart does not resemble a cinnamon roll in either appearance or flavor. It is not scrumptious and juicy and dripping in delicious frosting (although the crunchy frosting substitute on top wasn't half bad... it being made solely of plastic and sugar, two things I love). I ate the Pop Tart cold as I eat all Pop Tarts and the cardboardlike texture of the crust was not as comforting as one would think. Next time I run out of protein bars... I will return to the Cinnamon and Brown Sugar Pop Tart, because it tastes like heaven.

Thursday, July 16, 2009

What was once lost is now found thanks to M. Craine, a gentleman and scholar... true story. Let us hear what Mr. Campbell has been up to... in his own words with a little commentary from me, of course...

"I still work for Chemical Lime Company as an Analyst ... the same job that I moved out here for a couple of years ago. I really like my co-workers and my job. Part of my responsibilities include developing the sales budget for the coming year; so July thru September is my busy season ... just getting into it now. Although it is hectic, in a sick way, I love the pressure because it gives me the chance to show my skillz (that's right ... skillz with a 'z'). I come out smelling like a rose (figuratively) I bought a house down here just over a year ago. It's pretty cool. I live on the south end of fort worth ... only 15 minutes from work in a nice little housing development. The people are super-nice down here. I love the area, and don't have any plans to leave EVER! I am so sorry D.C. that the Texas climate has burned your braincells... I don't have any roommates, live-in girlfriends or pets, so it's just me. I like living alone, but I wonder if I might regret it later ... it will be a BIG adjustment to get used to living with someone again--if it ever comes to that :) I am attending a singles ward down here; but sometimes I feel like a creepy old guy compared to the young kids around me. It's a little weird, but the people are great. I am currently ward mission leader (sound familiar??? I believe that's how we originally met it was, but I must not have got it right ... they want me to try again). Only in THIS ward, being ward mission leader is a little different ... it actually involves working with the missionaries and investigators / converts. We actually have a baptism coming up on Saturday, and I have to conduct :( I would much rather enjoy the meeting than be involved, but nobody ever asks my opinion! Dating? Seriously? I thought you knew me!!! I did, but I had to ask, I am nosey. By my count it has been six years since I took a relationship seriously I don't remember that relationship? Does anyone else remember that relationship?. Given my less-than-enthusiastic attitude and non-existent level of effort ... let's just say that I would be suprised (to put it mildly) if a 'personal life' ever develops. Theoretically, I want to be in a relationship: marriage, kids, and whatever ... what do you mean by 'and whatever' Mr. C? but apparently I don't want it bad enough to get off my ass and do anything about it. Maybe T.M.I. I could have been more brief: I'm not dating anyone right now :)"

Wednesday, July 1, 2009

I am on a mission. I must find David Campbell. I have been reflecting a lot lately about the past life, and I feel that I just let David Campbell slip into the wilds of Texas without maintaining the friendship. Sure, he didn't talk much. Sure, he had red hair. Sure, he liked Texas... but he had some really nice qualities. No one, absolutely NO ONE was a better BBQer. He was easily led into British Dramas, and was only slightly ashamed. He liked golf. He inspired the use of the full name. So if any of you has any information leading to the whereabouts of David Campbell formerly of BYU, formerly of Mesa AZ, formerly of Richfield UT, formerly of Roosevelt UT... bring him back.

Thursday, June 25, 2009

Occasionally at CPR I like to post a list about things that make life good. You can see some old favorites here and here, and oh wait, here. (PS--Thank you, Beardocrat for the technology)

So today, as I sit 'working' I thought it was time for another list of the good stuff:

1- goatlings2- soft pajama bottoms3- the smell of a field after a good rain4- home made granola5- lazy mornings6- a good canyon run7- curling up with a new book, and discovering a good buy8- gchat9- four day weekends10- teasing anyone11- dancing frogs12- not answering the phone13- ground pads14- fabric dryer sheet scent15-long summer days16- 'Songs in the Night' Samantha Crain and The Midnight Shivers17- wikipedia18- colors19- driving with windows down20- thunder storms21- purified water22- holidays23- matching plates24- the slide guitar

Monday, June 15, 2009

Apparently people feel strongly about supermarkets. I know I do. I have tried to stock up on good supermarket karma. I always park far away from the store leaving the closer spots for people with lots of tiny children, and the elderly. I return my shopping cart to the designated areas. I do not leave unwanted items just lying willy-nilly at any part of the store. Despite these good citizen tactics it NEVER FAILS, I always pick the slowest check out lane. Because I AM a good citizen and would never think to hop into an express lane if I had too many items... I try to see which lane is going to be the most effective. I factor in amount of groceries, adeptness of the checker, potential coupon clipper. But honestly, it NEVER FAILS, I will get in a line where they change checkers and the unmotivated pot smoker takes far longer than necessary to scan the items. Of the person in front of me decides to pay with a check, then the check doesn't check out, so off to customer service. Or one of my items scans wrong and they have to send out a search party to determine whether the actual price was 1.47 or 1.49. Or (my favorite) the cash register/debit card machine decides to break. I have given up... now I will choose my lane based upon which candy bar combination I would be least likely to buy and which trashy tabloids I want to peruse while waiting... and waiting... and waiting...

Tuesday, May 26, 2009

Fifteen items or less means simply this... FIFTEEN ITEMS OR LESS. Preferably less. If you are confused, you may simply count the items in your basket. Yes, basket... if you have a cart and have anything other than a 50 lb bag of dog food or charcoal and a carton of milk... surprise, you don't have fifteen items. Trust me. You have more than 15 and are just trying to scrape through and destroy the delicate order that the supermarket society promotes. I don't care if it is SIXTEEN. I don't want to stand behind you with my lonely loaf of bread as you ring in your two carts full of penny candies and then pay with a check.

Monday, May 11, 2009

Just joshing. It isn't. And I find that private blogs defeat the purpose of blogs--at least in my mind. Initially when I started the old blog, I was blogging to the 3-4 other people I knew who had blogs and the random strangers/companies that are selling something that would occasionally stumble onto my blog. I wasn't posting great personal revelations or musings that I wouldn't feel completely comfortable with Big Steve and The Latin Fury reading. Yes, even that post when I said I wanted to break up with my parents...

There is just something comforting about posting out into the void and wondering if some soul out there millions of miles away will read it. Frequently, I just hit next and see what other blogs are doing in the world (One day I plan to post a list of the blogs I have found and secretly loved, but I am too unmotivated at present). I have read touching stories about adoption, parents losing children, drunken Canadian nights out with hipsters, people obsessed with the Jonas Brothers and a bajillion baking/scrapbooking ladies willing to share their recipes and ideas. I have found photography sites, and culinary sites, and travel sites, and it has been quite interesting. Now, my ego doesn't persuade me to believe that people are stumbling onto my site and being wowed by the design (that was for you, Beardocrat :x) or the content. But my blog is all me. And will always be all me for all the world (and my two semi regular readers... thanks Smithfieldman and The Rage) to read about. This is my declaration and promise that this blog will not go private!

Monday, April 20, 2009

I hate technology. This is a fact. I was the last person I knew to get a cell phone and still hate the fact that I just can't get a phone that is a phone. I don't want it to play music. I don't want it to take pictures. I don't want it to send me email. I don't want it to pretend to have a GPS. I want my phone to take calls that I ignore. That is what I expect from a phone... but I digress. I was talking about how I don't like technology. I have a laptop that performs regular laptop functions. I have a printer that performs regular printer functions. I have simple needs.

That being said, I found something that one day I MUST own. As much as I hate technology, I LOVE books. I like their smell. I like their content (generally speaking). I like to read a book in bed at night and wake up to it on my pillow in the morning. I like books littering my car, my purse, my living room. I go to bookstores, and used bookstores, and yard sales, and the internet... and come away with loads of books.

This weekend I moved for the fourth time in two years (if you count the flood and moving to the basement in my old digs) and realize that books are heavy... and bookshelves are awkward to lift. The sad part of this story is that I still have all the books in my parents attic that I didn't bring when I moved to Provo. Spoiler alert... that will be ANOTHER fun day of moving in the not too distant future. The other day on the internet my love of books almost beat my hatred of technology when I stumbled upon this:

What is it, you ask??? Only a genius idea... And Kindle2! I didn't even know about Kindle1. Now I have not yet held a Kindle2 in my hot little hands to see if it lives up to the hype, but a guy I know has a brother-in-law who swears by his Kindle2. If that isn't ringing endorsement enough for you! It has wireless access to Wikipedia for Heaven's Sake!!! So, my birthday is in several months and if all two semi regular readers start saving... I think you could get me the gift that says, "I love you." Just a suggestion...

Tuesday, April 14, 2009

I don't love to publish my personal life in the public forum (yes, ignore my facebooking/gchat status) but I feel this need to share something I have learned with the rest of the world. I have had the recent opportunity to attend two showers recently as the guest of honor. No, Darbley, not communal showers a la MTC. Bridal Showers. I have some observations based on my research:

1- The older the woman, the less shame about saying things that shouldn't be said in public.

2- People find it hilarious to give harmless gifts like lotion, or body wash, in Victoria's Secret bags. (in a related rant: Who is this Victoria, and why do we care about her secret? Which isn't actually such a secret is it? Her secret is shown freely in shopping malls everywhere)

3- Children have no place at Bridal Showers.

4- Men have no place at Bridal Showers.

5- The world has an endless supply of decorative frames.

6- When planning showers people do not think enough about the healing power of chocolate.

7- Scrapbooking is not/will never be my thing.

8- There are certain things that should never be said. Ever. In any company. Ever.

Tuesday, March 17, 2009

I am about to anger all 1.5 readers of my blog with this next post. But I feel like it is time to get back to cynicism. I have been too happy lately. I will admit it. I have sung. I have danced. I have frolicked. I have found myself staring off at odd times with an awkward smile on my face and I apologize. If CPR has one credo, it is to shed light on those things that annoy. Few things annoy me more than Girl Scout Cookies.

Where to begin? People LOVE these things, and I am not sure why. Very recently three separate people admitted guilt to eating a whole package of Girl Scout Cookies in one sitting. Imagine my disgust. A) that they would endorse the girl scout organization via cookie purchases but mostly B) that they thought a whole box of Girl Scout Cookies meant something. If ever there was a group of people that promoted ridiculously small portions... it was those Girl Scouts.

Also... and here comes cause for angry rebuttal comments: GIRL SCOUT COOKIES ARE DISGUSTING. They taste and have the consistency of cardboard. Yeah, I said it. Thin mints? Cardboard. Samoas? Cardboard? All those other kinds that I think are even LESS redeemable? Cardboard. I lived with a person called The Rage who often made cookies. They tasted like cookies. They had the consistency of cookies. In short they WERE cookies. In no way did the resemble what the Girl Scouts try to pass off as cookies. To be frank, if I am going to destroy my caloric intake for the day, I am doing it by consuming a cookie. A real cookie. A true cookie.

Some of you probably feel that this post is motivated from a hatred of uniformed girls selling goods, but that is untrue. This post is a result of guilt. I (yes, prepare to be shocked) was a girl scout and sold these... cookies. I apologize to anyone who might have bought them, or bought into the whole "proceeds go to help local troops" this is a lie. Cookie revenue that remains at a local level goes to pay for Girl Scout camp which is where the Girl Scout Agenda is truly seen. If you wonder what the Girl Scout organization supports, why don't you take a look at the lobby dollars they spend in Washington. You might be surprised. And you might just stop buying those nasty cookies.

Monday, March 9, 2009

Do I endorse Nu Skin, you ask? No, I do not. Do I use Nu Skin? Also, no. Then why, oh why, a blog post about Nu Skin...

I have this friend. We will call him Miguel in order to protect his REAL identity. But let me just give you a hint: His actual name might be VERY SIMILAR to the name I have given him to protect his identity. Only his name is in a different language! Ha! Crack the code if you can. Alas, onward. Miguel works for a company called Nu Skin. Apparently for a small part of his job Miguel has to search the Internet for websites selling Nu Skin because legally they are not supposed to.

Instantly I felt a challenge... could Miguel find MY blog if I repeatedly mentioned Nu Skin? And would he send me intimidating letters from lawyers telling me to remove my Nu Skin post? We will just have to wait and see. In the meantime I will tell you the only Nu Skin story/experience I have to share.

Back in the college days I tried to take swimming classes all the time. Sure, this pushed my graduation back several years, and sure, it didn't help the bronchitis I managed to catch each winter... but it was tons of fun. In one of these classes was a kid I'll call Fernando. I am NOT trying to protect Fernando's identity. Either that was his name or he looked like a former co-worker named Fernando, either way we were not friends. I was; however, friends with Adam. Adam invited The Rage and I over to his place for a party that involved a pinata. The only OTHER thing I remember about said party was that Fernando and Adam were roommates, which subsequently made my swimming class a little awkward. Donning a bathing suit in front of complete strangers... not a problem. Donning one in front of a friend's roommate... different story. I digress. Fernando worked for Nu Skin and had all sorts of Nu Skin products. The evening culminated in an application of some sort ofsawdusty green face mask. The Rage and I refused to take part for religious reasons, but to my knowledge pictures still exist somewhere.

So there you have my Nu Skin story all about Nu Skin products and websites that mention Nu Skin. I will let you know if "Miguel" contacts me about the post.

Friday, January 30, 2009

Monday, January 26, 2009

The other evening I had the pleasure of attending P&P Night--Pizza and pictionary--at a dear (yes, dear) friend's home. Among the other exalted guests were a couple (?) who will be called Delhan and April. Delhan--because it is his nickname according to me and April--because that is what I thought her name was... the entire night. How many hours did I call her April over and over and over again, you ask? Well, plenty. There was even an entire game of pictionary when we were partners and I would give her occasional high fives and shout "Well drawn, April!" and stuff of that nature. NOT ONCE did April correct me.It turns out... April's name is Hannah.Hannah!?And the kicker is that April didn't even bother to tell me. Delhan had to say that her name was Hannah. So for me... She will forever be April. (I saw April again recently and called her April for another two hour period.)So I propose a statute of limitations. You have a two mistaken name window. If you don't correct someone about your name by the third offense, you have no right to complain and you shall henceforth and forever be known as the incorrect name. A La the April Incident with a strict 'no exceptions' policy.Now, just to prove that I am no hypocrite I will relate another story. After the April Incident I went to a party. At this party were several people that I didn't know, in addition to a friend's parents. I was in the kitchen discussing gourmet recipes, proper child rearing, and quilting (you know, things moms and I have in common) when I noticed that my friend's mom kept talking about this Melissa girl. I didn't know Melissa, so I just nodded and smiled. And because my smile is pretty charming the conversation went pretty easily. When it was time to leave I asked my hostess to show me to my coat. My friend's mom picked up my coat and handed it to me, saying, "Is this yours, Melissa?" I found that I was so startled I stumbled out into the snow with the realization that I had nodded, mumbled something about the dinner she'd prepared, and blinked a lot. I did not think to correct her. And so, to my friend's mom... I will always be Melissa, and I am okay with that.

Wednesday, January 7, 2009

The following are emails exchanged yesterday between a certain Smithfieldman and politicchic6

Andy:Right now I am listening to one of my other favorite Andrews... Andrew Bird. His soothing voice and ability to whistle have stolen my heart. Plus he is lanky and has dark hair... I am pretty sure that we are getting married (the only slight problem being that he MIGHT already be married. I am SO glad I am Mormon...) His new album is on early release at NPR.org and it is AMAZING. I am really looking forward to purchasing it.

Michele,How ironic that you mention Andrew Bird. I just read a piece about him on The New York Times Web site. A quote that made me think of you was: “When Andrew plays,” she said, “we can squeeze in a lot more (in the venue) because so many of them are skinny girls with glasses.” I will have to check out his new album on NPR. I've watched a couple YouTube videos of his as sometimes I search "Andrew" just to see what others with my namesake are doing.The article I read also did mention that he had recently ended his relationship, with who I don't know. So I wish you well. Here's the link to the article: http://www.nytimes.com/2009/01/04/magazine/04bird-t.html

So there you have it. In some future date I will be blogging as Mrs. Andrew Bird (Dr. and Mrs?). He is coming to Murry the 25th of February and if anyone is interested in forwarding the cause of true love, you should purchase a ticket and come along.

Sunday, January 4, 2009

Everyone is doing lists of the best of 2008, but that is so last year. I would like to relive the greatest moments of '09 for several reasons, but mainly because the list will be shorter and easier for me to remember.

1- Mark the Shark in Dr. Pepper pajamas (let it be known that these are in no particular order, although Dr. Pepper pjs would certainly rank high on any totem pole). Nothing like seeing people from church in the wee hours of the morning.

2- A (potentially former?) enemy coming in to save the day (and seeing me in MY pajamas I might add). This is bitter sweet because I really enjoyed despising this person in days gone by. Alas, it is hard to think poorly of someone who might not be so bad...

3- Numbers asked for and received. I wasn't even trying to go all Yenta during the Fruitland New Year's Escape, but apparently Fruitland is where the magic happens and I hope this startling new development bears fruit (did you guys see what I just did there?) because it would be awesome.

4- Quesedillas. Secret ingredient... love.

5- Jace finding a new hero in Jerome. I enjoyed him parroting the mantra "You have to work for everything in life". It seems a little insincere coming from a six year old, but oh well.

6- Dallin refusing to believe that Stewedslacker once had hair. It does seem rather unbelievable.

7- Discovering that I had already read the bookclub pick, but re-reading it (and having a good cry) anyway.

8- Forcing Stewedslacker to get best men.

9- U of U Game. It HAS been a while since I was offered little smokies as a main dish. It has also been a while since I was propositioned for random makeouts with pseudo strangers. Nice to think that I still got it...

10- Forcing Tatum Tot into a chick flick with the chicks. There is nothing shameful in crying about Dear Frankie. I'm not made of stone, people.

11- Corey's engagement. I applaud someone who can break up with the "love of [their] life" (his words, not mine. I also believe the term soul mate was thrown out there) and be engaged to someone completely new in less than two months. Apparently the heart IS a fickle creature.

12- Reconnecting with old friends. There is a strange comfort in being able to speak to someone who you haven't seen in years and feeling like there has been no space or distance. Those are the relationships that last. In a world of artificial intimacy and forced closeness, genuine friendship is refreshing.

13- Mount Timpanogas Temple trip. I like that place. It is like chicken soup for the Provo resident's soul, when the Provo temple is closed for scheduled maintenance.

14- Realization (based on Christmas gifts) that my family might think that I am depressed... This may or may not be the discussion of a future blog post. Probably not as we all know that my blog post promises mean very little.

15- Our apartment becomes roughly the equivalent of a Motel 6. Who will be sleeping here? Who knows, but we will leave the light on, and the space heater.

Wow... I am not even halfway through the list. 09 is going to be pretty intense if judged by the activities thus far.